


An Expected Travel

by AuthorA97



Series: The Travels of Middle Earth [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorA97/pseuds/AuthorA97
Summary: Morgan and Darcy get back on the road. Their first journey? The Hobbit! (T for swearing and some gore! Come on guys, I have orcs fights in here.)





	1. Letter to My Daughter

My darling Lilac,

It's so odd to write this to you. You're so used to bedtime stories with my voice. You are used to being happy with us, surrounded by your large family. To cuddle beside your sister, to have your father standing protectively by the door, to your aunt being a ridiculous voice alongside mine.

As I'm writing this, it's been four months since I turned 200. You're only ten years old. It's so hard to believe sometimes. I can remember how I found you in a crater in my backyard, warm from the flames of entry. Though the memory is foggy, dreamlike, as if through the eyes of someone else.

I can remember when you were four and we moved to Ponyville. You ran into my arms, excited at the idea of new friends. Lilac, you filled a hole in my heart that I didn't know was there.

These last few months have been trying on all of us. It was devastating to our family to lose your aunt, Darcy, so long ago. I told you of her deaths (and subsequent resurrections) before. The time she fell into a fan, the stabbing, the most recent one was decapitation. The last one put much strain on my heart. My stomach is turning at the memory.

I had discovered my people. The humans with powers like mine. The Reality Walkers, or ' _Travelers'_. The people that can walk into realities of fiction. In rare cases, the  _nonfiction_. (Tell no one, but  _I'm_  the one who made the 'cherry tree' rumor. All of history was at stake, though. GW had to be elected!)

The Travelers leader, a man named Dominic Chamberlin, was no friend to our family. There are many wrongs I have committed in my long life, Lilac, many things I have regretted. To Dominic, my crime was being  _born._ He threw your aunt and I into the dungeons. He threw  _you_ in cells, like you were a pet at the pound. He told me he planned to  _kill_  you.

After hearing of our upcoming executions, your aunt put herself in my place. She died. It broke my heart.

The next few hours were not my best. I hurt a lot of people to get to Dominic. To make him feel the pain I had felt when I lost Darcy.

Another regret of mine was when you walked in and saw.

Another regret of mine was the cautiousness you had with me after. That you had been  _scared_ of  _me_.

Another regret was that I thought I had lost you forever.

My people saw it as a 'trial by combat'. I won the title of leader. Crowned Princess of the Travelers. They saw me as a  _savior._ I don't feel like one, Lilac, even after all this time.

On our sixteenth Human birthday, nine months after her death, I brought Darcy back again. It was a complicated spell. I had to pull out all the stops to drag her into the land of the living. (Let's just say it involved a voodoo necklace and a doll then leave it at that)

There was a lot of things that needed tending to after her return. She wasn't the only new addition to our family. There was my boyfriend, and your sister. Our people needed time to adjust. Myself more than any. Our family of two became a family of five in a few short weeks. It was a struggle for you too.

You didn't take well to all the new family. I can remember you being so nervous around your sister. It took some convincing, and now that girl thinks of you as her hero. It was no better with your father. When you met him, you wouldn't stop glaring! I know you don't want to hear this, but you were  _adorable_!

I love your aunt. I know the madwoman like I know my own mind. She's my twin, so I  _should_  know her best. She's an adventurous sort. She loves to  _move_. She loves to  _fight_. If I don't shut her up soon, I'm going to kill her again.

When everything was peaceful again, (in December in the year old our Lord 2013) I asked Darcy where she wanted to go.

Every since she first heard of it, Darcy has wanted to Travel to realm of Middle Earth. She loved hearing about the stories of Frodo Baggins, the hobbit. She loved hearing about how dwarves walked the land, battle hardened warriors from the stone. She loved the elves, how they were so intuned with Middle Earth. She would deny it, but she loved the romance of Aragon and Arwen.

(Though I think her favorite story was hearing about CS Lewis and the lamppost)

So it was no surprise when she said she want to go to  _The Hobbit_. Especially not after she dragged me to see  _Desolation of Smaug_.

It had taken a bit of work ( _some_ called it cheating, I call it  _creatively finding the answer_ ) for me to get  _'Battle of the Five Armies'_. (Though for your sake, you best have plausible deniability as to how I got it)

Darcy and I set to leave for Middle Earth. I know  _you_ haven't seen this movie so I'll explain everything as best I can.

This just might be the most important story I ever tell you. I have kept many secrets from you. You were too young for such knowledge, back then. Please pay attention. Above all, understand I did what I felt was right.

My story begins with someone else's. For in the realm of Middle Earth, far off to the east, was a civilization. The like of which you will not find in any world today.

There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of precious fruits and cloths. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords.

Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson. (I'll be getting to  _him_ later)

Erebor was a sight. The kingdom was built  _inside_ the mountain. Dwarves were said to have been born out of stone, so the mountains were where they felt most at home. The beauty of this fortress city was legend.

Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark.

And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. Thror named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was  _divine_. Creatures of all races would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil.

As per usual, things went wrong.

It never rains, it  _pours._

Overtime, Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind.

A dragon. They called him Smaug.

He destroyed the city of Dale in less than a day. They meant nothing to Smaug.  _People_  meant nothing to Smaug. He cared only for the gold, unwilling to let anything stand in his way.

He claimed the Lonely Mountain as his own, casting out the dwarves from their ancestral home. A dragon will do anything to protect their hoard.

Our family, Lilac, knows this better than most.

The dwarves begged for the help of the elves. Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since.

Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low.

The young dwarf prince, Thorin Oakenshield, took work where he could find it. He always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and never forgave, and he never forgot.

That, my darling Lilac, is where the hero of our story comes in.

You know the name of Bilbo Baggins. There's that cute song about him. You've heard me singing  _'In the middle of the earth, in the land of the Shire, lives a brave little Hobbit who we all admire.'_

Sorry, I just love that song.

Some say it was a stroke of luck that brought him into this tale. Some are more mindful to say it was all a certain  _wizard's_  idea. Who can say for sure?

It began, well, it began as you might expect. Your aunt and I made a dramatic landing. We're Stardusts,  _nothing_ is done  _simply._

 


	2. Wizards of Isengard

There was a heavy thud as I landed on the stone floor. My feet were shakily holding me upright as I waved my arms about to keep balance.  _'If it looks stupid but works, then it's not stupid'_.

Once I was balanced, I observed my surroundings. The walls were the same dark black obsidian stone as the floor. The arches of the ceiling went on. There wasn't much natural light in this room yet the arm tasted free of dust. Torches were hung on the wall, showing that there wasn't an furniture to speak of. There was a door behind me, closed tight and definitely made of hard metal, no window to speak of but a heavy old fashioned lock. The room had an air of  _'less than welcome'_.

There was a mural on the wall facing me, the torches casting shadows on what was possibly a beautiful piece of art. There was an outline of a horse, and it's rider. I believed it was Saruman, based on the glimpses of brilliant white I saw.

It was all the confirmation I needed. I was in Isengard.

With my location assured, I got onto my appearance. My hand went up to my hair. I found shoulder length black strands, curling all the way to the tips. When I had a chance, I would find a hair tie for it. This much hair was bound to annoy me in later months. My skin was a natural tan, decorated with freckles.

My outfit had changed from the pajamas I was wearing earlier. My pajama bottoms were replaced with denim blue trousers, reaching to the cinnamon brown knee high boots. My top was a simply white button up, simple but functional. The shirt and trousers were covered by a tan surcoat, which looked more like a robe with it reaching to my feet. There was a smoke grey corset over my chest, though not in a way that felt constrictive.

There was a comforting weight on my back and shoulder. The back over my shoulder was my magic bag, which was enchanted to be larger on the inside. There was a lot of things in here that I valued in here. Along with some changes of clothes. The pack on my back was full of survival gear for this adventure. I had purchased the bag for this purpose.

"You okay?" An English voice asked from my left.

I turned to it sharply. There was a familiar face (it  _felt_ familiar, at least) staring back at me. She stared at me with sharp glittering purple eyes. Recognition slowly shining behind them.

Her skin was the same tan with freckles. The hair was longer, though because her hair was in black waves instead of curls. Her clothing was  _much_ different. Her trousers were black. Her boots were chocolate brown. Her surcoat was was red, with marks like charcoal all over it. I couldn't see her shirt, but I knew it had no sleeves. Her corset was a smokey grey. There was a backpack on her back as well.

"As best as I can be." My voice had the same English lit as her's. How lovely that we were twins again.

Darcy smirked at my voice.

"We're in Isengard, yeah?" I asked, eyeing the black obsidian walls.

My sister nodded, beaming like a child who had earned her first gold star. "Isengard. Also known as Angrenost, which translates to the Iron Fortress." She walked the room, her boots softly clapping on the stone floor. "It has been called the Fortress as Gondor before changing hands to Saruman, thus tilted the Fortress of Saruman. Others can call it the Wizard's Vale, and Nan Curunír."

Darcy turned towards me, still explaining as she continued to walk at a calm pace. "We must be in the Tower of Orthanc, which is the center of Isengard." She stopped to stare at the stone mural between the torches.

I was happy to see her be so knowledgeable on something that didn't involve weapons.

"When should we be meeting Gandalf?" I asked, holding my backpack closer to me. Though I knew we were closer to Saruman, I preferred not to meet the White wizard. He made me feel nervous.

Darcy turned to me, thinking it over. "There's no real way of telling. He can be anywhere in Middle Earth." She knelt down to the ground, pulling her backpack off. She brought out a brown leather bound journal. She rapidly turned the pages, scanning them with her sharp purple eyes. "Before he's spoken to Thorin, hopefully. I'm sure we have plenty of time."

"For?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I walked around the empty room, staring up at the intricate torches. "What would we do? Recruit others for our cause? Volunteer for rescue services?"

"To make our place." Darcy explained in delight. "Gandalf is a trusting man, all we'll really have to tell him is that we can help reclaim Erebor. Thorin will take on anyone that Gandalf endorses. We can do almost anything if we tell him we have knowledge that we can use for good." She got back to searching her book, idly walking with it.

"Can't believe you want to help people." Shaking my head, I grinned in pride at her.

Darcy stared up at me with a grimace. "It's  _The Hobbit_. Of course I'm helping the Dwarrows reclaim Erebor from Smaug the Great and Terrible!"

"Dwarrows?"

"Politically correct term. They don't mind either one."

"Ah."

Lilac, you would be so proud of your aunt. She had done so much research for this adventure. She had learned the Elf speak, Sindarin, and the language of flowers for Hobbits. She knew the proper mealtimes for Hobbits as well. Throughout the journey, she learned about Dwarf braid and head culture. She still puts the beads in her hair.

It was all in her journal. That journal became our guide for the world. I have shown it to you many times. You've seen the drawings of Dwarf braid styles, and the head carvings she had seen. By the time all was said and done, she had flowers pressed inside the book.

She even put in the maps of Middle Earth. Thorin's map (with translated Moon Runes), Middle Earth's map, and one of the path we would take. For fun there was a Durin and Hobbit family tree! Darcy loved the idea of knowing more than I did about something.

No, actually, it wasn't an  _idea_. This time, she properly knew more than I did. She knew Tolkien like I knew  _Doctor Who_.

"Well now that I can be politically correct with a dwarf, how can I be politically correct with myself?" I asked her. "What are  _we_? I know we landed at Isengard, the Wizard's...Vale, but is it because we're Wizards or because this place has a lot of magic? We've been known to be brought to places with high magic content first."

Darcy gave a half hearted shrug. She put her journal back in her pack. She threw it over her shoulder, a thoughtful look on her face. "Personally, I hope for the Wizard thing. It might even be  _logically_! When has anything I ever said been logical?!" She finished as she pulled her pack on.

"It scares me too." I teased. "Seriously though."

"Impatient wanker." Darcy teaser back.

The two of us made our way towards the door. There were no answers to be found in here.

It was a surprise when the door opened, swinging inwards. For a moment I thought it was an automatic door. The theory was ridiculous when I saw a man dressed in white and a man in grey.

My sister reached for a blade. Even after so much time apart, I could sense her form tense when she realized her blades were missing. I was in no place to talk, my hand itches for my gun. I adjusted faster to the lack of weapon, instead observing the Wizards blocking our exit.

Saruman was tall. His time inside Isengard had made his skin slightly pale, making the few lines there stand out. There was something dangerous in his beady black eyes. His beard and hair were the same length, colored so light a gray it looked white. His off white robes reached to the floor, though the ends weren't ruined by the ground.

He seemed to be observing me as I observed him. The Wizard could wipe my sister and I off Middle Earth if he wanted. I kept my expression conserved, and kept up a mental barrier on my mind. Darcy hadn't said if the Wizards could read my mind, I had read  _Harry Potter_ so I knew it was a  _possibility_. It was too much of a risk that Saruman could see what I knew. I had plenty of experience of unwanted people inside my mind.

The Grey (future White) Wizard was more open if his curiosity. There was powerful magic in him as well. His robe also reached to the ground. It was dark gray like a marathon runner's tracksuit. He wore (what I thought) was a  _proper_ Wizard hat. He had heavy laughter lines on the sides of his mouth and eyes. His blue-grey eyes glanced at me sister, lightening up in delight.

They both held their staffs proudly. Saruman, gripping the handle as if to prepare an offense. Gandalf, holding his like he didn't remember it was there though he would use whatever force needed should we not reach peace.

Satisfied, I lifted my hand up enough to Darcy to see it. It was safe enough to relax. She would never be fully relaxed around Saruman, not with his future alliance with Sauron. She needed to stay calm unless she wanted us dead.

Darcy stood down. Her hands clenched into fists though.

Saruman spoke first. He observed my sister, though spoke to me. "It has been many years since someone has entered this place without alerting myself. Much longer since they were two." He explained. He turned his focus back to me. "Never before have they been women."

I bowed my head, hopefully in a thanking gesture. "The compliments are well received, if it was our intent to surprise." These long winded sentences were going to annoy me by the end of this. It's stuff like this that I stopped dealing with royalty. "Our apologies are due for any disruption we have caused."

"Then tell me. What had been your intended action?" Saruman asked. "If not then to invade Isengard for a misinformed attack?"

As much as it would help, I couldn't tell him we had come from another reality.

"We were hoping you would tell us, sir." Darcy spoke. She walked up to my side, keeping a level stare with Saruman. "You see, my sister and I have no way of telling how we arrived in this room. We saw your mural, and decided to look for you since this is clearly your domain. Everything beyond who we are is blurry. We don't know what we are, or who our unwitting Host is."

Saruman's gaze lit up in interest. Though he did not completely believe us. "An interesting predicament."

"I would say so, yes."

The White Wizard kept a stern face. Though Gandalf was becoming much more sympathetic to us. We would get more help from him.

"Bring these two to the Tower." Saruman instructed Gandalf, not acknowledging him. "It seems we have much to discuss. "I must go search."

The Grey Wizard bowed his head. "Of course."

"What are the names of our apparent hosts?" Darcy asked from behind me. Saruman and Gandalf looked at us in disbelief. "Yes, we  _are_  that stupid. Still need those names."

"Should we not know the name of our guests first?" Gandalf countered.

"Darcy the Red, daughter of Emily."

"Morgan the Pink, daughter of Sarah."

"You said you were sisters." Saruman reminded sharply.

"My sister and I were raised separately." Darcy explained. There was a strength to her voice. "Though I am not related by blood, Emily is still my mother."

I smiled fondly at the story. Darcy was born in Chicago, in her reality of  _Child's Play_.

"Though it came as a surprise to myself." I admitted. "She has brought light to my life."

"I am Gandalf the Grey." The wizard bowed in respect. "And your host, is Saruman the White. You two have landed yourselves inside Isengard, one of the most defensible fortresses of Middle Earth."

' _Let it never be said that our family did things by halves.'_


	3. She-Wizards

The Tower of Isengard reminded me too much of the scene in  _Lord of the Rings_  when Saruman fought Gandalf. The betrayal of the supposed light Wizard. Then there was the crystal ball, which will one day possession of Perrin Took. The orb in which Saruman would communicate with Sauron.

The giant expanse of land just outside Isengard. The pits I knew would one day be used to create an army for Sauron. There was the forest out in the distance, visible from a large window, where I knew the Ents were unaware of the fates of their brother trees.

What? I like the movies. I'd  _never_ tell Darcy. She would make me read the books. I'm a fair weather fan of Tolkien, thank you.

The room was the same black. The black that seemed to suck up the colors of everything else. No wonder Saruman gave in. How could anyone spend such long periods of time in this place and not give in?

My attention went back to the matters at hand. I stood at attention in the main area of Saruman's meeting hall.

Saruman observed my sister and I with an even stare. I kept my shoulders squared. There had been a lot of long winded explanation about us which included just about the best conversation-

"I take it from all this pomp and circumstances that we are...wizards?"

Saruman gave us a calm nod.

My sister and I exchanged a look. There was a matching thought in our eyes.

' _Yer a wizard, sister.'_

"Another surprise?" Saruman asked.

"Yes." We answered together. It was our best party trick. _(Though I'm pretty sure my cousins are_ never _talking to us again)_

Gandalf watched us with amusement in his eye, as well as cautiousness. "You seem to be in the habit of that."

"We know." We, again, answered together.

-I have ever had about wizardry.

Things turned to an interrogation not long after that. Who we were, what were our origins, what led us to Isengard, what exactly we planned to do here.

It was really annoying. We managed to get something resembling the truth going. It would be kinda counterproductive for us to say Darcy and I came from another universe.

Still, by the end of the day Saruman believed my story. He agreed to have us trained as proper wizards of Isengard.

Under one condition.

==AET==

"Now I'm pissed because they won't give me a weapon!"

Though I would have laughed at her pain, it annoyed me too. Swords and daggers weren't my style, they were more Darcy's than my own. Give me an arrow and a bow, and I'll be a warrior. Magic and words had always felt more my weapons.

The White Wizard had told us that training Wizards weren't given weapons, not until they had their magic mastered. Besides that, the two of us were strangers in their land, you don't give strangers the means to kill you.

So now, we waited in a guest room. They  _said,_ it was a guest room. I didn't really want to think on what else it could be.

Saruman had told Gandalf to get use some more appropriate clothes. It was a bit of a downer to hear we'd have to wear colored robes. I liked the outfit I arrived in. A dark pink robe would mess the whole thing up.

"I guess there's something good." Darcy commented. Looking over to her showed me the joking grin on her face. "They call me 'The Red'. I can joke about shoving my foot up people's asses."

My hand met my forehead with a clap. "That's 'Red' not 'The Red', you idiot."

"They won't know that." Darcy countered, lying back on one of the lounge chairs.

"...at least I know you're not 'Well Read'." The snarky comment took a minute to get to her.

"Yeah. Good poin-HEY!"

Her indignant shout made me snicker.

This was why we'd come here. After a near decade of fighting with the other, Darcy and I needed a trip so we could find some flow between us. It'd been a tense four months. This trip was my olive branch to Darcy.

Now she and I were laughing. I missed that.

So hearing we couldn't even  _weapon train_ together? A thing that bonded us in childhood? Yeah that fucked up my Travel plan.

"Keep laughing, bitch. How are we getting from  _here_  to  _Bilbo_?" Darcy asked.

She had me there.

"Then I guess we'll just have to ask."

"But that's  _hard_!" Darcy whined. "Can't we just sneak out?"

"Yeah, except I don't know how we climb down the Tower edge." I explained. "I'm not exactly packed for a base climb."

Darcy made a noise of dissatisfaction.

A road trip is exactly what me and Darcy need.

"Can I kill someone?" Darcy groaned impatiently.

"Who's here that you could even kill?" I asked.

Just then, Gandalf walked in.

"Ah." Darcy smiled, childishly.

"No." I sternly ordered.

She pouted at me. That trick hadn't worked since she turned ten.

"Gandalf." Ignoring my sister, I moved my focus to the grey wizard. "What brings you here? Our robes here yet?"

"No. I'm about to go on a journey."

"What kind?!" Darcy asked, excitedly. She hopped off her chair. She rushed up to Gandalf's side, looking up at him with wide eyes.

The Grey Wizard smiled down at her. "Well, the adventurous sort I should hope. It's

"Take us with you!" Darcy demanded.

"Oi." I stood up from my spot, walking over to Darcy's side. I whacked her arm (I had wanted to whack her head, but her hair looked nice and she'd kill if I messed it up.)

"Shut it, Morgue, I'm making a serious point!" She stomped her foot. I snorted, shaking my head happily. A giddy smile grew on my face as I watched this play out. "We need to go with you! This place is _depressing!_ "

Gandalf was actually considering the idea. He had a thoughtful look on his face, his eyes scanning Darcy as if imagining her on this adventure.

"...you know,  _I_  think it'd be a great idea to have three wizards with them."

Gandalf gave me a delighted eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yeah. Cause, we'd learn about magic..." I listed.

"Magic learning, yes that's a biggie." Darcy agreed, bobbing her head with me.

"...We'd get to explore the land of Middle Earth..."

"That we need. We're practically blind in this place."

"...my sister and I actually learn better through experience then training..."

"I won't do well in a classroom setting. I'll set something on fire."

"...and lastly we'd make friends! We need friends outside of Isengard!"

"Cause you and Mr White upstairs are cool, but like you're not cool  _enough_ , you know?"

"No offense." I added.

"No I wanted that to be offensive." Darcy assured.

Well that just brought my giddy smile back. "That's a good sum of your character."

"Ain't it just?" Darcy grinned like a doofus.

The two of us turned to Gandalf. Funny how he wasn't put off by any of Darcy and I's antics. Then again, this was the guy that brought Bilbo along because it _'it would be most amusing to me'_.

"So can we come with?" We asked.

"You don't even know where we'd be going." Gandalf pointed out. That wasn't a  _'no'_.

Darcy and I shook our heads. "Don't know." Darcy started.

"Don't care." I added.

"Just take us there." We finished.

"Oh gods, we just rhymed." Darcy face-palmed. "I hate when we talk in rhymes."

"Cause I'm no Walter White, and you're no Rick Grimes!" I chirped.

Darcy gave me a smile that plainly said  _'can I throw you out a window?'_

Gandalf glanced between the two of us. His smile was getting bigger and bigger. There was mischief in his eyes and I liked it. "There's a chance you will have to fight a dragon."

"Nothing we haven't done before." I assured, practically begging.

Darcy made a noise of disagreement. " _You've_  done it."

"Then you'll learn how to, that's the whole reason we're doing this."

"So I can fight the dragon?"

"Ask the Grey wizard.  _Nicely._ "

"Can we pretty please fight the dragon?" She asked with a childish high pitched voice.

"It was the purpose of my original visit." Gandalf admitted, giving us knowing looks.

Darcy and I blinked, keeping our faces blank instead of sheepish.

"But first." That glint of mischief spread out across his whole face. "We'll need to see a particularly troubled dwarf."

"What's troubling him?" Darcy asked instantly.

"Why, the dragon of course." Gandalf answered.

"Ah."


	4. Thorin, Son of Thrain

The Prancing Pony was filled with the excited cheers of all races. They were Men, Hobbits, with the occasional Dwarf. Darcy and I made our way in behind Gandalf. The tall Wizard had made it difficult to see the other patrons without craning our heads around his arms.

He had given us cloaks before our journey here. Her’s was a rich dark red. Mine was a dark pink. It had taken some work (and definitely some magic) to get it to the right shade of pink. Gandalf had been curious at my color choice but didn’t ask. 

Along the way, he had taught us some useful spells. They were mostly defense ones. He didn’t think we were ready for full blown attack spells yet. Of course, he’d never seen Darcy with a butter knife. We could take anything to make it a weapon.

(This is not a joke. Darcy told me she knows how to kill a guy with a rubber duck!)

Gandalf had gone on to say that those wooden staffs they had weren’t created for them. Usually they were found, created in the heat of the moment when the Wizard needed it most.

So, Darcy and I were being taught how to write without pencils.

As a two hundred year old crown princess, mother of two, it was degrading.

Darcy no doubt saw it as a challenge.

“Hostiles?” I asked. My eyes began doing my own sweep of the crowd.

“Assassin, bored.” Darcy commented, staring idly at the thin Man from the movie. “Hasn’t had a good job in-oh-I’d say four months.”

“Five.” I corrected. “He killed someone four months ago, but it wasn’t a job. The other Man had gold.”

Darcy made a noise of agreement. She observed the fatter one half blind one, hidden in the booth. “Ex guardsmen. Eager for coin.”

Gandalf stared at us in surprise. “Oh. Are you familiar with those men?”

“Never seen them before tonight.” My sister and I replied.

“Then how do you know so much?” Gandalf asked. He was smiling with a sparkle in his eyes.

“I’m an assassin by trade.” Darcy revealed. She was continuing to observe the other patrons, as if one would leap out at us any moment. She was not a paranoid sort, more that she had four decades until her belt that taught her the joys of caution.

She liked what she saw, for her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I always need to know who else wants to kill me, and what skills they have to do so.”

“You  _ could  _ call me a guard. It’s my job to find the law breakers, wherever they are likely to turn up.” I explained. “So basically, it’s my job to catch people like my sister.”

“And it’s my job to avoid people like my sister.” Darcy teased.

“So we’re the best at our jobs.” My sister and I agreed.

Gandalf lifted his eyebrow at us. His eyes twinkled in mirth.

“It would be for the best if I did all the talking.” He reminded, cautiously. “This particular dwarf can be stubborn

“Warning you now, that’s not gonna happen.” Darcy warned. “I’m going to make a joke at one point. My sister is, without a doubt, going to scold me on it.”

“She’s right.” Was my helpful reply. “In addition, I can’t keep my mouth shut either. Not unless I’m properly scolded. And I mean _ properly _ . But then, Darcy gets me talking again.”

Darcy gave Gandalf a thumb-up, telling him I was right.

Gandalf smiled at us under his beard. “Oh. You three will get on swimmingly.”

Darcy smiled toothily. I smiled with my tongue between my teeth.

Thorin’s sharp eyes scanned the room. He ended up glaring at everyone. Not even the few Hobbits here were spared from his paranoid eyes.

“Mind if we join you?” Gandalf asked the King Under the Mountain while he stole a seat.

The Dwarf stared at us in shock. My sister and I smiled innocently. I took a seat next to Gandalf, while Darcy took the one beside Thorin.

“I’ll have the same.” Gandalf told the waitress.

“Just eggs and sausage for me, thanks.” I added, giving her an understanding smile. I don’t think I would’ve lasted long in a job like this. I’d’ve hit customers on the head more than once.

“Same as her.” Darcy smirked at the waitress.

The woman nodded politely. She eyed us three strangely for a moment, then made her way to the kitchens.

“I should introduce myself. My name is Gandalf.” The Wizard spoke softly enough so the other patrons wouldn’t hear, but loud enough for Thorin to over the loud mirth in the room. “Gandalf the Grey.”

“I know who you are.” Thorin stated. He was pretending not to be a paranoid dwarf.

“Well, now. This is a fine chance.” Gandalf stated. “Though I would be hard pressed if you knew of my apprentices.”

“Morgan Stardust the Pink, daughter of Sarah, at your service.” I gave a curt and polite nod of my head.

“Darcy Stardust the Red, daughter of Emily, at your service.” My sister added, copying my nod to the exiled dwarf king.

“What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?” The two of us asked.

The dwarf king stared at us in surprise. It wouldn’t have been a shock to me if he was seeing his nephews as he observed us.

The two of us blinked rapidly at him, while awaiting his reply.

Beside me, Gandalf was trying to contain chuckles.

“I received word that my father had been seen wandering the Wilds near Dunland.” Thorin admitted. His icy blue eyes were moving between us three Wizards. “I went looking. I found no sign of him.”

The Grey Wizard looked at him with hesitance. “Thorin, it’s been a long time since anything but rumor was heard of Thrain.” He reminded.

“He still lives. I am sure of it.” Thorin whispered in reverence.

Gandalf backed off. His eyes still held doubt.

Thankfully, our food arrived just then. Gandalf happily picked at his meal. Darcy went to work giving me her eggs. I gave her my sausage. We moved with the air of having done this a thousand times.

We had. It had been four months of this. I can honestly say I’ve loved every bit of it. After Darcy was dead for so long, coming back, then dying again, I doubted we would connect as well as we did before. I doubted there would be an ease to our moves. I doubted my sister and I were the perfect team like before.

Except, we hadn’t been perfect before. We had fought. We ignored faults. I didn’t trust her completely with her own abilities. I was striving to do better. Maybe if I did better, she wouldn’t die again.

I didn’t know that Darcy was thinking the same thing.

Too be honest, I was trying to bury my guilt under this  _ deliciously _ cooked eggs.

“My father came to see you before he went missing. What did you say to him?” Thorin interrogated.

“I urged him to march upon Erebor, to rally the seven armies of the Dwarves to destroy the dragon and take back the Lonely Mountain.” Gandalf admitted to Thorin’s surprise. “And I would say the same to you. Take back your homeland.”

“This is no chance meeting, is it, Gandalf?” Thorin realized.

“You were right, Gandalf. This dwarf is a genius.” Darcy stated, taking another bite of the sausage.

The Grey Wizard met Thorin’s harsh stare. “No. It is not.” He reached under his cloak for the note. “The Lonely Mountain troubles me, Thorin. That dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later darker minds will turn towards Erebor.”

He pulled out the note. “I ran into some unsavory characters whilst traveling on the Greenway. They mistook me for a vagabond. I imagine they regretted that.” He pushed the note to Thorin. “One of them was carrying a message.” “It is Black Speech. A promise of payment.”

“For what?” Thorin asked. Though by the look in his eyes, he already suspected something.

“Your head.” I answered.

Thorin moved his eyes to me. The cold blue darkened in understanding.

“Someone wants you dead. Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the Throne of Durin.” Gandalf went on pleading his case. “Unite the armies of the Dwarves. Together, you have the might and power to retake Erebor.”

Thorin straightened his shoulders back. He didn’t seem to like this plan. Then again, if I was still convinced my long considered dead king for a father was out there, I wouldn’t want the crown either. There was a crown on my head  _ already _ , I barely wanted it there.

“Summon a meeting of the seven Dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oath.” Gandalf explained.

“The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the King’s Jewel. The Arkenstone.” Thorin reminded him in desperation. “It is the only thing that will unite them, and in case you have forgotten that jewel was stolen by Smaug.”

As he said this, the two would-be assassins from earlier left.

“What if we were to help you reclaim it?” Gandalf offered.

“How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away buried beneath the feet of a  _ fire-breathing dragon _ .” Thorin argued.

“Yes, it does.” I chirped, finishing off my eggs.

“Which is why we’re going to need a burglar.” Darcy purred, finishing off her sausages. 

Thorin looked between the three of us as if we were mad.

At the same time, he looked at us like we were his only hope.

It was enough for him

He agreed.

“Of course we’re also in need of your trade as a blacksmith.” Darcy admitted.

“Oh?”

“I want a battle axe, and two daggers as long as your forearm.” Darcy explained. “My sister would prefer a bow and some arrows.”

“My sister-son prefers the bow.” Thorin noted. He wasn’t saying yes to us just yet, merely stating facts.

“I make better kills at long distance.” I explained. “If I do it up close, blood gets in my hair.”

“Plus red’s not a good color on her.” Darcy agreed.

“What? I once wore red for an entire year!”

“And how’d that year go for you?”

Seeing as that was the year I met Tony Stark, not gre- “...oh.”

“Yeah.”

_ ‘Be assured, Lilac, there is nothing on this Earth more enjoyable than my sister and I getting wide eyed and jaw dropped faces from people who stand around us.’ _

 

==AET==

 

Though I am loath to admit it, I  _ loved _ the feeling of a bow in my hand.

Why was I loath to admit it? Because as perfect as it felt, my guns and magic were my preferred weapon of choice. 

We were staying at an inn in Bree. Gandalf and Thorin were off in another room discussing more of the plan. Darcy and I were testing out our new toys. It had taken a bit of convincing to Gandalf for him to let us keep the weapons.

_ “Until we find our wands, we’re defenseless. On this journey we’ll be facing all kinds of untold dangers! How am I supposed to stay alive when I don’t have as much as a  _ butter knife _ to defend myself?” _

Yeah Gandalf was pretty okay with the weapons after that.

Darcy was impressive with her battle axe. She was swinging the axe around as if she’d had it her entire life. Thorin’s work as a blacksmith was impressive.

My bow was a bit harder to gain flow with. I had a quiver of arrows on my back, which was messing up my aiming just a tad. Despite my request not to, Thorin had included some small blades for myself.

The sooner I found a magic staff the better. I would feel much better about fighting when I had magic on my side.

“What happens now?” I asked Darcy when she finished waving her axe around..

“We go to a certain smial.” Chirped Darcy. She attached the axe over her back. She started making her way to wherever Gandalf and Thorin had gone off.

“Smial?” I asked, following behind her.

“The proper name for a Hobbit hole.”

My eyebrows rose up at her statement. My eyes widened, scanning my sister with unsurety. She noticed my stare, tilting her head to one side.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing...just...you said  _ proper  _ and it wasn’t ironic.” I admitted.

She blinked.

Then stomped her foot. “ _Dammit_. I did!” She huffed. “That’s...when was the last time I did _that?”_

“I don’t think you ever  _ have _ .” Was my answer. “You’ve always hated  _ ‘proper’ _ . Ever since you found out it wasn’t a sex term.”

Darcy agreed. She was shocked at her own words.

_ This _ was what we had always worked towards, the bond we had always wanted. I remember being so hopeful that by the end of this adventure we’d be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever and a day! My summer has been hectic. I’m transferring to a new college, job hunting, writing other things, having my 20th birthday, binging watching Star Trek (McKock/McSpirk is my OT3!)


	5. The Meeting of the Company

Darcy was picking at her leftover squirrel. “Am I annoyed, or disappointed that it doesn’t taste like nuts?”

“Annoyed.” I remarked. I twisted some knobs on the binoculars, trying to get Bilbo in focus. 

My sister and I were hiding in the big tree near Bilbo’s smial. Gandalf has gone off to round up the other Dwarrows. He left specific instructions that we wait here for them to arrive, not to enter until Gandalf came back. The two of us settled in the tree to wait.

Luckily I had some surveillance gear packed in my Bag for emergencies. There were worse uses for it.

My sister had managed to wait five whole minutes before being bored. She pulled out the leftover squirrel from lunch to eat. Though I’m surprised there was any left.

“Nah.” Darcy chewed the meat off the bones. It was some grotesque form of a corndog. “Disappointment. This guy eats  _ Shire _ nuts, you’d think those had enough flavor for-”

“No. I’m annoyed with you.” I corrected.

My sister scoffed, derisively. She peeled off more of the squirrel. She tossed it in the air, catching it in her mouth. “Jealous of my supper.” She mused between bites.

“You’re eating a roasted squirrel!” I argued, keeping my voice low as a hiss to keep quiet.

Darcy held the squirrel closer. She pulled her legs up beneath her, sitting in a squat. “Are you jealous that I have a squirrel and you don’t?”

“I will push you out of this tree.” I warned, meaning it.

She chuckled.

Now I really wanted to push her out of the tree. My leg jabbed out to meet her thigh. Darcy threw her head back to laugh to the heavens.

Later that night, Bilbo prepared himself for supper. The fish he was finish looked good, I will admit. The sun had set long ago on the Shire, while the Hobbits had their dinner. Darcy herself was having supper beside me: roast squirrel. She had picked me some of various herbs in Hobbit gardens to make a proper meal out of it. 

“Oi, oi!” My arm flung out beside me. It hit Darcy, so I repeated the action. “We got confirmation!”

“For fucks sake, watch your aim. You could’ve hit my squirrel.” Darcy complained.

“Confirmed Dwalin!”

Darcy tried to pull the binoculars out of my hand. I grabbed them back. They  _ were _ on a lanyard around my neck. That’d  _ hurt. _ She rolled her eyes, reaching for her own.

The two of us watched Dwalin knock on the door.

I’d gotten an idea while watching.

Bilbo opened the giant green door. 

_ “Dwalin, at your service.”  _ I recited in a voice similar to Dwalin’s.

Beside me, Darcy burst out laughing. She had to quickly cover it up in her robe sleeve.

She laughed into her sleeve again when I recited Bilbo’s like in  _ his  _ voice.  _ “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.”  _

“Stop it. You’ll kill me.” Darcy laughed.

_ Now that was the wrong thing to say.  _

Darcy continued to laugh. She didn’t take notice of my distressed silence until more lines had passed unspoken. The door to Bilbo’s smial slammed shut.

“What? Come on!” Darcy prompted me, still grinning. “Those were good! Your accent is on points...or whatever the fuck kids say.”

No response from me.

“Yo. Spencer. You gonna chat?” Darcy reached out with her arm to punch mine. I ducked. “Okay now you’re just being bratty.” She tried again to grab me. Instead of flinching, I did a spin around the branch, flinging myself up to a higher branch. “Alright that was impressive but I’m still _ annoyed _ . Dammit Dwalin’s inside now! We missed the rest.”

Darcy climbed up another branch. It was close to mine. Instead of talking I just gave her the cold shoulder.

“Fine. We’ll just watch the rest in silence.” Darcy remarked. She leaned against the trunk of the tree. “Maybe Gandalf will give us a cue line. Course we can’t hear it, so if only someone in our party could read lips.” A pause, barely time to have a thought. “Okay seriously what is up with you right now?”

Nothing.

Just...nothing.

 

==AET==

 

The other Dwarves came, one by one by two by eight. Like some messed up kind of math equation or rhyme. ‘ _ One Dwarf, two Dwarves, red Dwarf, many Dwarves.’ _

Gandalf showed up not long after the eight. He came right up to his tree. “Having fun up there, girls?” He asked.

“ _ I’m  _ having a grand old time!” Darcy cheered. She had thrown her red robe on when I first spotted Gandalf. “There was a squirrel and I ate it!”

Mine was being difficult. Though that was because I was using the hood to cover my head. 

Gandalf hummed in amusement. “How wonderful! I hope the wait was as exciting for you, Morgan.”

I blinked. “...my robe was warm.”

“Delightful!” Gandalf cheered. “Let’s be off. I believe our host is expecting us.”

Darcy hoped down from the tree. Somehow she kept all the branches from hitting her cloak. I followed behind at a slower pace. 

We ran over to the smial. Darcy was skipping ahead of Gandalf. I walked just a step behind him.

Darcy leaned over the pile of Dwarves. “You fellas forgot how to door.” She smiled at Bilbo. “Hiya.”

Gandalf came up beside Darcy. Myself appearing on her side.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo sighed, long suffering.

 

==AET==

 

The party was raging in a full fury. Dwarves were pulling food out of the pantry like the world as they knew it was ending. Bilbo’s expression certainly fit with that mentality.

He was going up to the Dwarves as they took their servings and extra servings and extra servings. For every single one he spoke with, three more stole food. Darcy had apparently had enough to eat with her hunted squirrel, while I made do with various pieces of bread and fruit.

Darcy and I were sitting in the dining room. Because the house was too low for us, we decided to sit on the floor. I was perching my plate on one knee, the other curved beneath. Darcy was leaning on my shoulder, watching the Dwarves run around.

A Dwarf came up towards Gandalf, who was setting the table/

“Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, can I tempt you or your apprentices with a nice cup of chamomile tea?” One Dwarf offered.

Darcy leaned in. “That’s Dori.”

“How do you know?” I whispered.

Darcy pointed to his face. “The braids. They’re a whole element to Dwarf culture. It’s super cool.”

I stared at my sister for a moment. “Why did I not see you were a total complete  _ geek _ ?”

Darcy snorted.

“Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think.” Gandalf told the Dwarf. “As for my apprentices, well I’ll let them speak for themselves.”

“Red wine!” Darcy voted. 

My shoulder bumped up, making Darcy bounce. “Chamomile, if you wouldn’t mind, wit a lot of sugar.”

“Of course, Miss-” Dori paused.

“Morgan.” I answered, before elbowing my sister. “She’s Darcy.”

Darcy waved. “Hello.”

Dori quickly made my cup of tea, going off to get Gandalf and Darcy their wine. Before I could have a sip, Darcy pulled me up to my feet. The two of us had to hunch as we followed Gandalf out of the dining room.

Gandalf hit his head on Bilbo’s chandelier. Darcy snorted before shoving me in the corner. I quickly found balance, holding my hand in front of the cup to keep the tea from spilling out.

“F í li, K í li.” Gandalf greeted the brothers as they came by. He held up his fingers, counting the others Dwarves that quickly ran by him. “Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori...Ori.”

“Twelve Dwarves.” I remarked. “That’s good, right?”

Gandalf kept his face clear of emotions, twinkles of light in his eyes the only thing giving him away. “Good, but not just right.”

I turned to Darcy. She had crammed herself in the corner opposite mine. She had this smug/giddy grin on her face. Honestly it was such a dorky grin that it became infectious.

Bilbo walked by. Well walked by is soft word. He stormed in front of us, pulling away a bowl of his prize tomatoes (one of the few LOTR references I understood right now) away from another Dwarf. I think Gandalf pointed at him in his counting, labelling him Nori. Bilbo mumbled about his prize winners before marching back to the kitchen.

Another Dwarf came up to Gandalf (who was still trying to avoid the chandelier). He spoke rapidly in a language that I had no knowledge in.

“Yes, you’re quite right, Bifur.” Gandalf remarked. Apparently Gandalf spoke this language. A quick look from Darcy told me it wasn’t supposed to be a surprising thing. “We appear to be one Dwarf short.”

Preemptively, I glared at Darcy to not snort at the  _ ‘short’  _ joke. She grinned smugly.

_ ‘If you don’t want me to say it, you must be thinking it too.’  _ Her eyes were saying. 

Yeah she was right. Whatever.

“He is late, is all.” The Dwarf I remembered as Dwalin assured. “He travelled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come.”

“Mister Gandalf? Miss Darcy?” Dori called out. He walked up towards the Grey Wizard.

“Hmmm?” Gandalf hummed.

Dori held up three shot glasses full of wine. “A little glass of red wine, as requested. It’s, eh, got a fruity bouquet.”

“Ah, Cheers.” Gandalf picked up his glass while Darcy reached over for her’s from where she was sitting.

“Praise be to the Author.” Darcy took the shot with Gandalf and Dori. “Ah. Wine from Bilbo Baggin’s house.” She grinned at me. 

Smiling, I rolled my eyes at her. At least  _ I  _ got more tea with this arrangement.

Gandalf on the other hand frowned. He hadn’t expected such a small glass of wine.

 

==AET==

 

The meal reminded me of Thanksgiving, except this one was out of my nightmares.

My sister was crammed in beside Kíli. She’d been drinking ale and scarfing down food like the lot them.

Bilbo found me in his cleaned out pantry.

“Oh. Yes. Hello.” Bilbo barely paid me mind. He was more focused on seeing just how much they’d eaten. “You are...one of Gandalf’s apprentices.”

“Morgan the Pink.” I supplied for him, since I knew he’d forgotten.

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded. “Queer name.”

“Every name is queer. We just pretend they’re not for conversation’s sake.” I replied immediately.

Bilbo paused. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.” He sighed. He didn’t look back towards the table as they made another ruckus. This time it was ale being poured down Oín’s ear trumpet.

I winced.

“The other...is in the Red?” Bilbo asked.

“Darcy.” I helped.

“Yes. Yes, that was her name.” Bilbo looked at the pantry again, sighing. The Dwarves were quiet for a moment.

“I tried to help, but.” I glanced at the pantry. “There were  _ twelve _ of them. And my sister is a handful.”

“Your sister?” Bilbo asked. “Wizards have sisters?”

“This one does.” I answered.

Bilbo glanced back to the table, where the Dwarves were still guzzling their ale in perfect silence. “Wizards can have sisters? How is that possible? How does one even  _ make _ a Wizard?”

“You know, I never thought to ask.” I admitted. Glancing over at my sister, I questioned if she would even know.

Of course no sooner had I thought that she belched louder than any of the Dwarves.

Bilbo and I grimaced in disgust.

 

==AET==

 

The Dwarves had started to clean the meal. I dashed out of the kitchen to avoid being overrun by them. Darcy was in the living room, merely keeping an eye on the door.

Bilbo yanked a doily from Nori’s hands.  “Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!”

“But it’s full of holes!” Bofur argued.

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet.” Bilbo explained, as though speaking to someone dense.

“Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it.” Bofur joked.

Everyone laughed. Darcy loudest of all.

“Bebother and confusticate these Dwarves!” Bilbo grumbled, stuffing away the doily someplace safe.

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked, coming up into the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo repeated, sarcastically. “I’m surrounded by Dwarves. What are they doing here?”

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.” Gandalf assured.

Bilbo stormed out of the kitchen, Gandalf and myself behind him.

“I don’t want to get used to them. The state of my kitchen!” Bilbo growled. “There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve pi-pillaged the pantry. I’m not even going to  _ tell  _ you what they’ve done in the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing!” Bilbo ranted.  _ “I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” _

“Bilbo, maybe we should take a breath-” I tried.

“‘Scuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Ori walked up to us, more specifically Bilbo. “But what should I do with my plate?”

F í li walked up. “Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” He offered, from behind Bilbo.

He tossed it to K íli. Kíli tossed it to whichever dwarf was still in the kitchen. They continued to toss dishes over Bilbo’s shoulders, and between Gandalf and I. Nearby I heard the scrapping of utensils in a familiar beat.

I gasped in horror with Bilbo.

Darcy appeared behind Fíli, tapping a matching beat on the floor.

“Oh!” Gandalf yelped when a plate nearly hit his head.

“Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery, it’s over a hundred years old!” Bilbo shouted at them. He turned his anger to the Dwarves drumming a beat with the utensils. “And can-can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!”

That’s when it came together for me. I turned to my sister, seeing her beaming in confirmation.

“Ooh, d’hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” Bofur announced.

“ _ Blunt the knives, bend the forks.” _ K íli sang.

_ “Smash the bottles and burn the corks.”  _ Fíli sang along.

_ “Chip the glasses and crack the plates.”  _ Every Dwarf joined in, along with Darcy and I. “ _ That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” _

As we continued to sing, Bilbo watched on in total abject horror. Gandalf lit some pipeweed to watch the festivities.

_ “Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat, pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door!” _

The Dwarves all worked together to toss the dishes about. Ori was left the Dwarf to carry things to the kitchen. Darcy and I stomped our feet to the beat.

_ “Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole. When you’ve finished, if any are whole send them down the hall to roll!” _

Darcy and I whistled with the Dwarves, ecstatic. They began tossing dishes to us, so we put the clean dishes up in tall piles.

_ “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” _ We finished.

Bilbo growled out in anger.

He pushed through the crowd of Dwarves. Darcy and I showed off the clean dishes to him. Bilbo’s eyes widened in surprise.

The Dwarves all laughed at his expression.

The laughter stomped at three loud knocks on the door.

“He’s  _ heeere _ .” Darcy supplied.

I whacked her on the head to shut her up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I’m still alive. Hurricane Florence is doing it’s best to take me down. It has yet to learn I’m immortal.


End file.
